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Friday. 09/23/05. 03:04:05 AM
The last thing Eiji Shinrow wrote in his life was a little story
he had posted a few minutes before he died, collapsed and
lifeless on top of his dirty white tile floors, his room
littered with dirty clothes and stuffed animals and toys lined
up on top of bookshelves and desks. He had frequented this
little unknown anime forum called Janimes for about six years,
and would frequently post his weird thoughts and stories on the
webspace browsers that occupied the spaces here and there.
According to his history folio on his internet browser, the last
place he visited online was this little story he posted on
Janimes, called "Tom Lin is dead". Tom Lin was his online handle
in the forum, so his post about the death of his avatar was sort
of weird to most of the members who read the headline, not
knowing how close the story would be to his real life world.
In the story, Tom Lin lied on his white tile floor staring up at
the rough ceiling, wondering about the last seconds of his life
and what he should leave for those who still cared about him,
for those who would cry for him when he died. In the story, Tom
Lin didn't cry but just gave up on the whole idea of trying to
fight life, trying to fight death, trying to complicate events
in order to figure out a meaning in everything, a meaning in
being him. In the story, Tom Lin died not with a smile or a
frown on his face, but a sort of a confused face, one that
didn't know how to end it all, even though he had wanted to end
it all, he didn't know how he should feel about it.
Tom Lin died without regretting or liking his life, the memories
of everything not rushing back like a fast flashback through the
eyes of his mind. All he wondered in his last second was how he
should appear to those who will see him after he died. Will they
think he killed himself? Will they think someone else killed
him? Those were the only things going through his mind, not
family and friends, not pets or relationships, just the wonder
about whether to smile or frown for his funeral, for his own
pose of a death.
Ryo Hayashi read the story and didn't know what to think about
it. |
